


Drabble #4--The Woman She Was

by indigowild



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-16 10:46:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3485339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigowild/pseuds/indigowild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A companion piece to "The Man You Are," this time from Peggy's POV. Starts out G, final chapter M. Completed.</p><p>I love feedback/criticisms/compliments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Peggy Carter was never the girl on the pedestal. 

Nor was she some daft whore. She liked to think she was somewhere in between, in a niche that she had carved out for herself. A niche that included being able to knock a man out with one punch, wearing bright red lipstick like a warning signal, having the shooting skills of a marksman, and always being immaculately put together yet happy to sleep in a tent wearing a tac suit. She could outthink "the boys" as well as outdrink them. Peggy Carter knew her value.

The problem, she mused as she sank further down into the steaming bath water, was that perhaps she had created too narrow of an identity for herself. Peggy Carter, unbreakable. Peggy Carter, entirely self reliant. Peggy Carter, SSR agent….and nothing more.

Nowhere in there had she left room for Peggy Carter, the woman. She wore her lipstick, pin curls, and dresses like an impenetrable armor. 

Angie had gotten frustrated with her once when she’d been trying to get Peg to go out with the girls weekend after weekend to no avail. “Geez, English, stiff upper lip and all, but you are allowed to have some fun you know. Sure, you smile, but when was the last time you really felt happy? You know, the kind of happy where you just want to sing or dance or, gosh, laugh?”

Peggy had flinched at Angie’s words. “I laugh, Angie. Why just last night I laughed at your story at dinner about your boss,” she replied, stung.

“That’s not laughing, Peg. I mean, like, when you’re laughing so hard your sides ache and your eyes are watering. That’s what I’m talking about. All you do is go to work, eat dinner, read work papers in your room, and sleep. You’d think you were a 50 year old businessman or something.” 

Peggy had tried to shrug off her friend’s words at the time. After all, it’s not like Angie knew about her secret investigation to clear Stark’s name. Peggy didn’t have time to go out and watch a movie with the girls, not when there were several of Stark’s “bad babies” still to be found. But now Stark was a national hero once more, his rogue inventions were destroyed, and Peggy found herself wandering aimlessly around Stark’s penthouse while Angie was at work or rehearsals in the evenings.

Picking up a glass of red wine from the edge of the bathtub, Peggy took a sip and tried to remember the last time she had felt truly happy. After several minutes of thought, she sighed and clunked her head back against the tub wall. To be honest, she couldn’t think of a single time, not since the war ended. Sure, she’d felt pride at her accomplishments, but she didn’t think that fit Angie’s definition. And if she was pressed to be honest, she hadn’t even felt happy since the start of the war except for her very short time with Steve.

Steve. Steve, who had a laugh that came from the very depths of his heart. Steve, whose smile felt like the warmth of a summer afternoon spreading over you. Steve, who made her stomach flutter and caused her to make a silent promise that as soon as the war was over, she was going to pursue this one good thing for herself.

Feeling her throat tighten, Peggy gulped down some more wine. Just the other night, she had said her final good-bye to Steve, promising herself that it was time to move on with life as she stood on the bridge and clenched an empty vial. A lovely thought…but Peggy wasn’t sure how to start.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still rated G, but I'm working up to it folks. For some reason it's much easier for me to get inside Daniel's head than it is Peggy's.
> 
> Marvel owns everything, I own nothing, blah blah blah.
> 
> Comments are much appreciated, especially since I'm new to this and need all the feedback/direction I can get. Thanks so much!

After few more sips of wine, Peggy sat up to add some hot water to the tub. Soon the bathroom was steamy, the heat and the alcohol making her head pleasantly light. She slid under the water up to her shoulders, trying to surrender to the sensation of total relaxation as she closed her eyes.

Idly, she began running her fingertips down her right arm, tracing her muscles. The bruises from her fight with Dottie had only recently faded, and her skin still felt oversensitive. She shivered slightly as goosebumps marked out her fingers’ path. Had it really been that long since someone had touched her that wasn’t during a fight? Apart from a hug from Angie and one from Howard (Dottie’s kiss definitely not included), she was hard pressed to recall any instance. Well, Jarvis stitching the gash on her thigh hardly counted, now did it? She had found Jarvis’s warm hand on her knee to be oddly comforting at the time, though she never would have admitted it. 

She frowned. Was that the persona she projected? Someone that people were too intimidated of to tap on her shoulder to get her attention, grab her forearm to help her regain her balance, or give a friendly nudge to? She knew that was the air she purposely put on around people like Jack, but was she that way to everyone? Certainly there were some people who her unconscious didn’t try to shut out…weren’t there? People like Jarvis, Howard (though she had to enforce strict boundaries with him), Angie, and…

And Daniel? Peggy paused a moment. She’d never felt an instinctive need to project that air around him, to forcefully proclaim her personal space. But why was her mind okay with letting him in? She squirmed uncomfortably a moment. Was it because she appreciated his skills as an agent and saw him as an equal, or was it because with his injury she unconsciously labelled him as harmless—physically lessened and effectively neutered—the way others in the office seemed to? 

Her vehement “No!” echoed suddenly through the bathroom, startling her. She had never thought of Daniel like that. Despite his crutch and his sometimes awkward gait, Peggy had always noticed how Daniel moved with a sense of strength and purpose. He held himself up tall and silently refused to surrender his place in the office, defiant of his coworkers’ derision. For heaven’s sake, the man had fought Dottie one on one and survived. Peggy smiled ruefully as she recalled the blow he had landed to her head while under the influence of Midnight Oil—Jack certainly seemed to have gained a new respect for Daniel’s physical strength that day. 

As for the other aspect of the “harmless” label…

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Compared to "The Man You Are," Peggy is just so much harder to write! She just has so many words and thoughts inside her. 
> 
> Standard disclaimer--Marvel owns the world, I own my head. 
> 
> Comments/complaints/criticisms more than welcomed.
> 
> The difference between Peggy and Daniel is that his fantasies were solely about her because he doesn't feel right imagining the two of them together--because he believes it is unachievable. Peggy thinks about the two of them together because that is why she is allowing her sexuality to reawaken.

_And Daniel? Peggy paused a moment. She’d never felt an instinctive need to project that air around him, to forcefully proclaim her personal space. But why was her mind okay with letting him in? She squirmed uncomfortably a moment. Was it because she appreciated his skills as an agent and saw him as an equal, or was it because with his injury she unconsciously labelled him as harmless—physically lessened and effectively neutered—the way others in the office seemed to?_

As for the other aspect of the “harmless” label…

The memory of the locker room incident flashed suddenly in her mind. Peggy wasn’t entirely sure she could blame the wine or the bath water for the sudden flush creeping over her cheeks. Of course it had been embarrassing, and she had wanted to tear into Jack for humiliating Daniel in that way. But at the same time, she’d be lying if she said that she hadn’t felt a long dormant flutter in her stomach revive as she stood there feeling his eyes taking in her disrobed state. Naturally he had averted his gaze immediately, being the decent man he was, but still he had stood there, seemingly frozen. She wondered if he had seen the bullet scars at that first glance or if it had been when she had sensed his eyes being drawn back to her body against his will. The expanse of bare skin on her back had tingled, feeling almost as though his lips were brushing across it. And then that jackass Thompson and the other agents had broken the moment, not even bothering to conceal their chuckles and snorts from the other aisle.

Peggy grabbed her glass, quickly swallowing the rest of the wine. Suddenly, she could feel that same tingle spreading across her shoulders. Shuddering slightly, she placed the empty glass on the corner of the tub, and sank back down until the water just covered the tops of her breasts. She closed her eyes, focusing on the sensation, drifting in a light haze. As if sensing some sort of unspoken permission, images starting floating up from the hidden corners of her mind, thoughts and feelings she’d tried and nearly succeeded in repressing.

The angle of his strong jawline and slight twist of his smile. One night after they had been sitting hunched over documents for hours, Daniel had stretched his arms above his head as he arched in his seat, his neck falling back as he opened his lips in a groan. She’d felt her breath stop as she stared, envisioning nibbling softly along his jaw until she reached his mouth. Kissing the corner of his lips where they quirked upward when he was amused, kissing him until he groaned like that for her. Unbidden, her right hand lifted from the water to rest on her face, her fingers gently tracing the path her thoughts had taken that day. Lightly stroking her own lips, her breath puffed out in a quiet sigh.

The scent of his cologne, cedar and warm spices mixed together, that drifted by her when they sat side by side working on the Russian war records. Peggy had kept taking sips of cold water that night, trying to distract herself from the urge to bury her nose under his ear, breathe him in, and lick slowly down to the hollow of his neck. Her still damp fingers lightly traced back up to the corner of her jaw, turning to glide downward over her fluttering pulse until they rested on her collarbone.

His powerful arms and hands. When she was teaching him to pick a lock, she had placed her hand over his to show him the precise sort of twist needed to jolt a tumbler out of position. She’d barely manage to conceal her gasp at the spark that had charged through her when she felt his strong fingers sliding under hers, forearms flexing as he moved the pick. Peggy could feel his fingers ghosting down the smooth skin between her breasts, her own moving to follow them.

Abruptly, Peggy’s fingers halted, a new kind of heat rising to her cheeks. How was it fair of her to do this, to take pleasure from her thoughts of Daniel and yet look the man himself in the eye tomorrow as nothing more than mere friends? No. He deserved better than that, whether he knew of it or not. 

If she was going to do this, it would have to be with the intention of pursuing her pleasure in reality as well, of taking that next step and allowing herself to reach for this one good thing—of being brave enough to open herself to this man. 

Peggy’s “yes” was barely more than a whisper, but to her heart it felt as if she was shouting. 

She closed her eyes and gave in to the rush of fantasies flooding her mind, the warmth in her stomach rekindling. His lips pressed against hers, not timid or hesitant, hand buried in her curls. Her nails running through the crisp hair at the back of his neck, his body shivering in response. Sure fingers unbuttoning her blouse, cupping her breasts firmly and caressing them. Peggy shifted in the tub until her nipples were above the water, tightening in the cooler air. Pulse quickening, her hands mimicked his.

She unbuttoning his shirt with less patience than he had used, her small hands tugging his undershirt off to expose the muscled chest and shoulders she had glimpsed at the infirmary. Bare torsos crushing together as eager hands roamed over backs and behinds, tongues darting between lips to taste and tease. Small sighs escaping from parted lips, though Peggy couldn’t tell if they were only in her mind or floating through the steamy bathroom.

Peggy unbuckling and removing Daniel’s prosthesis, looking up at him through her eyelashes as her lips and fingers moved gently over the scars, erasing the pain. His head falling back in a moan as she moved slowly up his leg, not stopping her explorations until his breath became shaky. Peggy tried to calm her breathing but it blended with the Daniel in her head, masking the ripples of the bathwater as she moved.

Daniel pulling her up the bed and rolling him under her. Lips and tongue and teeth and hands roaming over her neck, breasts, and stomach, the tension pulsing and coiling between her legs. Pinning her hips down with a forearm while he took her apart with mouth and fingers. Peggy felt her thighs trembling against her touch.

Daniel spreading himself out on the bed, steadying her as she straddled his hips. Warm brown eyes holding hers as she slowly sank down, stretching, filling, rocking. One of his hands on a swaying breast, the other circling and circling, pushing that tension higher and higher. Peggy flickered between worlds, hands shaking, the flush spreading across her chest as sweat gathered along her hairline.

She broke with his name on her tongue, sweet and sharp and yet familiar. As she slowly came back down, the shattered remains of her defenses floated away, settling to the bottom of the tub. Peggy carefully stood up on shaky legs, flushed and nerves newly raw to the world. When she glimpsed herself in the mirror, she didn’t see the agent, the armor, the pedestal…

She simply saw the woman.

 


End file.
